TwinZ

CHAPTER 1 - OMNIOUS TIDINGS Theme song for episode: “Does Anybody Know What Time It Is?” - Chicago [Summer of 2019] On about the fifth or sixth ring, I reluctantly pick up the phone receiver. I can tell by the static that this is a long-distance call. Dread creeps over me. Loud laughter on the other end should have been a cue to lighten up, but as the familiar voice comes through, a dam of gloom breaks. It is my brother, Max. Shouting. “Have you seen the news? We did it! We did it! Turn on your TV!” I swallow trying to make sense staring at the phone. Max, giggles that familiar way of his after ridiculous prank. It has been a few years since we’ve actually even talked. I stammer, confused, fishing. “We ..we…? Wh.. wh..who? Wha… what are you talking about?” “Me and the old Guatemalan. You know, Mayan Mike. Remember him?” “What did you guys do? Just the two of you?” “Listen. No time to talk now, I’m exhausted. Now we have bigger fish to fry! Told you! I told you! Mom was right! Dead on right! Talk to you later when things die down. See you when I see ya’! Stop dreaming so much, man. Turn on the damn TV!” Laughing again, he hangs up. Just like that hung up. But this was like him. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in eight years, and then out of the blue, this call. I have cause to be worried even before turning on the television. Max has a strange sense of humor and timing. What is funny to him is usually nothing to laugh about. In my opinion, he will always be a loose cannon and dangerous. A call like this reflects his wavering between sanity and wild, unpredictable criminal behaviors. Beyond identical physical appearances, we are nothing alike. Even our parents had difficulties distinguishing us apart. But my brother does not get it. Our shared past and the inevitable parting of ways over the years prove that our paths were meant to be different. True, there was that childhood beach incident. Memorable, terrifying, a dark, stained memory. Also, mother’s disclosure about our genetic line of warlocks and witches cannot be entirely dismissed. However, most unsettling were her premonitions about the two of us before she and our father passed away. My brother and I have unnatural psychic gifts that can be useful for any cause: Clairvoyance and Telekinesis. I find the TV remote and sit on the edge of a nearby chair. Mayan Mike, the Guatemalan Shaman, had been our teacher and mentor. The hope was that with his guidance, we would develop to use our gifted powers in positive ways. Both mom and dad had insisted before paying for our college education, my brother and I commit to spend six months with the Old Shaman in Central America. Six months of our lives. If either of us reneged, no legal Will or birthright would exist for either of us. This stipulation was clear long before our parents passed on to the other side from this life. Terms like these were compelling. But now, my half-wicked, naughty sibling was at it again. I hoped this was not too serious. The TV screen flickered on, and the voice of a talking head narrated a disturbing scene. “A Powerful Earthquake Hits Haiti, Again!” Scrolls as a runner below videos of flying debris, tumbling structures, and horrendous thundering sounds. Narrator’s voice breaks in: “The quake has flattened three-story buildings down to eye level. People are attempting to find and rescue voices heard screaming for help. The 7.2 measured quakes struck the cities of Les Cayes and Jeremie. There seems to be a straight line from these locations to the Atlantic Ocean. Now, crevices are deep enough to provide a Grand Canyon of sorts. Perhaps as long as the Rio Grande in the USA.” I stare at the news briefly in shock. Is this disaster something my wild brother has cooked up? This is not a laughing matter. Similarly, when younger, he was possessed by an idea of recreating the “Red Sea” parting of waters drama. There was no suspension of disbelief. He thought that the biblical story of crossing a body of water on dry land was a reality. Max convinced me to experiment and join our yet undeveloped psychic powers. Almost fifty years earlier, efforts to prove the possibility of performing telekinetic feats had been attempted by others. Special individuals had undeniably acquired varying levels of psychic powers. A select few knew the Nob Hill quakes in San Francisco were caused by man, not nature. Rumors again surfaced postulating causations following the recent devastation in China. Opposing camps emerged in scientific circles immediately after that calamity. Man-made, not natural. But why? Maybe my brother, Max, and a few others have a crazy agenda. However, since our separation due to philosophical differences, I am not in the loop. I refuse to take part in any of his schemes. My plate is full enough, making a stage name, staying on the right side of the law. In the U.S. and abroad, I am billed “The Magical Poet”. Practicing my arts while using my literary acumen to provide a safe, stable income. Limited social notoriety, I can live with, and I also remain physically healthy. Anyone employing the type of “magic” my brother’s cohorts are attempting risks shorter lives. The drain on critical body organs, exerting psychic energies, had proven deadly. Both of our parents had joined that body of statistical proof. They died early as master paranormal practitioners. But I still do not know what they did to die so early in mid-life. This news story has me rattled. I cut the TV off not wanting to know more. The little I do know is bad enough, and certainly too much already. I have my own fish to fry. Keeping a low profile, I live my own life. Still safely, I hope. But I have this strange feeling that I am not out of the woods yet. Far or near, no matter where I live, I am easy to find. There is no escaping our blood ties, nor the secrets we both share from our past. We are identical twins. Max may be thirty minutes older than I, but he still thinks of himself as my boss. From the beginning, past events had proven him to have stronger psychic power than myself. Now, I dare not wonder what mischief my brother has been cooking up. Time is starting to show things I wish could have been avoided.